


Of unknown Magic and Unpredictable Beauty

by gardenAgnostic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, angelas frustrated and really wants to die honestly, but lucio will interact with the others oh ya betcha, i love them pls, idk what other characters will make way here, lena is also only mentioned, maybe widowmaker?, mccree is midterm hes just tired, probablu hana, reaper is only mentioned on the first chapter, so is lucio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:36:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardenAgnostic/pseuds/gardenAgnostic
Summary: Moving towards the suitcase she had brought with herself, she took a few glasses with liquids of every color and every taste you could imagine from it before making her decision, and picking a blueish one.“I do hope he does not interfere with your well being,” Angela finally said after a long, threatening silence. She then got on both her knees, and gently touched the children’s shoulders. “Could you please get a cup of water and a spoon of honey for your mother? The taste of the medicine I have brought for her is not the most pleasing, you see.”The children nodded and without a word, ran off to the kitchen to get what was needed.Turning towards the mother, Angela checked her temperature before smiling in relief.“So, yer work wonders, I’ve heard?” The Hunter suddenly spoke, and she froze for a moment as she took in his accent and what he had said. When she didn’t reply, he kept going. “Said you’re a miracle worker. Others said you bring more suffering by offering fake hope.”“I am not a miracle worker.” Then, looking at the woman lying on the bed, she smiled. “Well, not always.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm new to AO3 and I hope to post any time I can. Updates for this fanfic will be strongly based on feedback! Thank you and have a nice day.

He had began chasing her after the village’s priest had begged him to put an end to her  _audacity_ of compromising with people’s faiths, turning them around and going “against God’s will”. The hunter had rolled his eyes at this, for he knew this witch was probably only dangerous for the priest’s own reputation within the small community. But the priest has money, and money spoke louder than anything else. The priest was willing to pay a  _really_ high price to take her down.

He was not given any traits, and when he asked why, the priest simply said,   
_“She does not show her features, but the people say she sounds fairly like a young woman, and once, while being careless, one of her so called patients was able to catch a glimpse of golden hair. She wears a mask over her face, hiding any traits that might characterize her.”_

All the hunter could do was nod, leave, and laugh it off after he left the church.  
_Right._ He had told himself, followed by a harsh but true thought.  _I ain’t sure what this priest thinks, but golden hair isn’t one of the rarest things to find, in the_ ** _middle of fuckin’ Europe_**.

Without any more complaints, the man set off to a nearby motel, to spend the night and prepare for the next day, when he would ask people for informations on the witch.

~~

While the hunter rested, his prey roamed freely on the woods nearby. Her golden hair and young face free for any to see if they dared.

Her facial features were at ease, and this did not change even after she set eyes on the moon. It did not change even as she was greeted by the demon that owned these forests, for he was no harm as he welcomed her with open arms as any friend would. The reds and blacks and whites on his face gave him a beauty only demons had, his horns and enlarged canines only making him look ever the more frightening for his  _foes._

But she was no foe of his, so the witch had nothing to fear. He was a friend, and she was a savior.

Only after a silent greeting was spoken between the odd entities, did they both enter a small house, that was so old, nature had begun claiming it centuries ago. 

As the demon said his goodbyes after dinner, instead of going to bed after a long day and as advised by her dear friend, the witch stayed up to look for cure.

Cure for an illness that would take away a woman from her children, leaving them to be orphans and soon be taken by the same sickness.

And she could not live with herself if that was to happen. For the woman was dying slowly and painfully, which seemed to be the worst faith set upon any innocent soul.

And so she did not sleep that night.   
  


Our hunter woke up early in the morning. He might not believe the witch would ever harm anyone, but a witch is a witch and thus must die.

He did not wake up in a bad mood, for he enjoyed his work more than anything. It felt good to help, it made him happy to investigate.  
He set off to question the villagers after a good cup of coffee at a nearby cafe.

_‘She has saved my child from certain death. The priest himself had come and told me she had no salvation, and yet she came to bless our lives.’_

_‘I have seen her go deep into the woods, where no one dares to follow, for a demon lives there.’_

_‘A witch is a witch, and from the sound of her juvenile voice, we know for sure she is either young, or one that takes the years from her victims.’_ This person had not been any the less helpful, for the hunter had heard these stories more than once and more than once they had been a batlant lie. ‘ _My sister, you see, had gone sick. The witch appeared soon after, but with a voice that seemed broken, she stated that she could do nothing to help, gave me a dream catcher, and left. My sister died a few hours after, and I shall not forgive this witch for not attempting to save her.’_

Jesse, which is our hunter’s name, took notes on all the things the locals told him and made his own observations. This village seemed to deal with paranormal shit a lot of the time, and he was incredibly surprised to hear that they lived with that on a daily basis and never truly questioned anything.

He found out about The Reaper, who seemed to be a colleague of the Witch. Though not always together, he was only ever seen with her. The villagers say he is one of the souls that were nearly lost under the doctor’s earlier years, and filled with guilt, she took him in and gave him a new life.

He found too about the demon that lives in the woods. A god of the winds and of chaos, a protector of the animals and of the forest and for some reason, of the witch. They say he has four red horns, two on his head and two near his mouth. Two big canines, and eyes that reflect nothing but death and darkness. He lures people to their death if they wander through the woods with harmful wishes. The villagers say he is quite the judge, for they send prisoners to these woods to be judged wether they are guilty or not. Guilty people do not come back, and that’s how they know.  
Mccree decided that since the witch came for those who are sick, he would accompany a woman who seemed to have become priority to her. He thanked the villager that gave him this information before leaving.  
“It’s an interestin’ village,” Jesse tells himself after the long day, “it might be worth it to stay for a while.”   
With this final thought, he set off to a nearby restaurant to have dinner.

~~~

The last thing Angela, our beloved witch, would expect to find on her way home was a wolf.  
Standing on his hind legs.  
Walking towards her like a human would.

To be honest, he looked like a hybrid. He looked both human and animal, with fur over his body, strange hind legs, but clawed hands that looked fairly human.

She froze in place as the creature came closer, scenting something from her, or at least that came her way, and all she could do was be petrified as she tried analyzing one million ways as to how a werewolf came here.

Because she had seen werewolves before, of course, but the last she ever met had died millennia ago, and the confusion was clear on her face and it did not phase the beast as he approached, unfriendly and ready to attack if needed.  
Gathering her thoughts, she quickly guessed what he wanted: the recently killed chicken on her purse, which she had so carefully chosen.  
But at this moment, life was more important than pride. So she threw the chicken his way, and he was quick to address his attention to eating it entirely.

With the opportunity, Angela sat down and looked at the beast while it ate. She plucked the leaves of a small tree and whispered “ _Genji, come here,”_ onto them, and waited for the demon to materialize near her.

He nearly made the werewolf attack them as he decided being loud about being waken up was the best option, and after being scolded he sat down with Angela and looked the same direction as her.

“Who do you think it is? We haven’t seen a werewolf in quite some years. Do you think it’s a tourist?” Genji had said as softly as he possibly could, his expression unfazed by the werewolf’s actions.

“Very unlikely. I haven’t really visited the village the past days, so I am not quite aware of any new comers. Tourists are rare and few between.”

So they sat there for a few seconds more, as the werewolf finished his meal and set off, away from them. Getting up was easy, and while Angela made her way home, Genji followed.

He sounded worried when he asked her if that chicken would of have been their dinner.   
“Yes. But as far as I am concerned, you can always hunt a rabbit or two for us to eat.” Genji huffed at her snarky reply, and slapped her on the shoulder as she giggled.

The next morning, Angela woke up ready to find out who the werewolf was so she could help them. She would ask around the village if anyone had seen any strange looking folk, or if anyone new had come by.

She walked out of the forest with a mask over her face: it did not have any major decoration, all it had was two vertical lines, imitating the drawing of an eye , making it harder to distinguish her facial features. It was better to be safe than sorry.   
The orphanage children that played near the forest greeted her with smiles on their faces, and she in return gave them a meal. For she was no evil witch, and these children were no bad people. They needed food as much as she did, and being a orphan herself, she knew their struggles.  
She asked them if they had seen any new faces around the place, and they had said that a man called Jesse Mccree had come into town by the Priest’s order, and that another man, called Lucio, had come by the other night,  _for inspiration,_  the children phrased him.   
Angela was quick to guess that Jesse was a hunter, for being called by the priest, and therefore probably not the werewolf. But if he was she was not one to judge, unless she had a clear look of him. So making her way to her patient, the thought of the werewolf not being a problem made its way to her mind.  
Upon arriving at the house, she was greeted by two children, who led her inside and onto their mother’s bed.

“Hello, dear. Do you feel any better?” Angela asked softly, a softness she had only for those she took care of.   
The reply came hoarse, but it came better than she remembered. This made her visibly relax.   
“Yes.” And then she looked at a dark corner on her room, where a bearded man sat, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Angela with dark brown eyes, the hat over his head casting a light shadow over his face.

“This is Jesse,” the woman began, “he has come to watch you. Priest’s orders.”

Angela looked over at him once, twice, then made her decision.   
This man was  _most definitely_  the werewolf from last night.   
Moving towards the suitcase she had brought with herself, she took a few glasses with liquids of every color and every taste you could imagine from it before making her decision and picking a blueish one.  
“I do hope he does not interfere with your well being,” Angela finally said after a long, threatening silence. She then got on both her knees, and gently touched the children’s shoulders. “Could you please get a cup of water and a spoon of honey for your mother? The taste of the medicine I have brought for her is not the most pleasing, you see.”   
The children nodded and without a word, ran off to the kitchen to get what was needed.   
Turning towards the mother, Angela checked her temperature before smiling in relief.   
“So, yer work wonders, I’ve heard?” The Hunter suddenly spoke, and she froze for a moment as she took in his accent and what he had said. When she didn’t reply, he kept going. “Said you’re a miracle worker. Others said you bring more suffering by offering fake hope.”   
“I am not a miracle worker.” Then, looking at the woman lying on the bed, she smiled. “Well, not always.”   
“Yer full of yourself, ain’t ya?”   
“Watch your mouth, foreigner. For I know you are here for my head, and I am willing to do atrocities to keep it.”   
The children arrived before he could reply, and while she cared for the mother and played with the children, teaching them how to help while she was out, he stayed quiet and watched.

When she left the house, he was quick to follow her.   
And she ignored him all the way through the house of another patient, a soldier whom nearly lost his arm to an infection. His condition wasn’t critique anymore, but she needed to make sure he was doing everything she had told him to do or else everything she made him go through would have been for nothing.   
The soldier’s husband answered the door, smiling lightly at the sight of the familiar vest and suitcase. Yet, he frowned at the sight of Jesse.  
“Witch, who is he? Is he a helper?”   
“I fear that he is only a nuisance. But do let him in, for the priest has ordered him to watch me so I behave.”  
The man only looked suspiciously at Jesse before opening the door and letting them in. He told her about how stubborn his husband was being, and how the medicine she had given was working wonders on him. It improved his mood, and soon enough he would be out of home again.   
Even after hearing these words, she still checked on his arm to know for sure he was healing properly. The wound seemed clean, and the open wound already looked like a scar.   
She smiled at the men, and retrieved surgical scissors from her suitcase, to remove the stitches.   
With a deep breath and a reassuring kiss, the soldier moved towards her so she could work.   
All the while, Jesse watched, trying desperately to see who was the woman behind the vest. She  _sounded_ young,  _looked_ young. Yet there was no real way of making sure since many witches used magic to maintain a juvenile appearance.   
But she was different from other witches, he was quick to realize that the day he asked the villagers about her. She is good, and does no harm. Yet it is the fear of the unknown that make people have harsh decisions and opinions.   
And when this too was done, she bowed to both of them and left, without a single word to Jesse.   
And he let her go back home.

He did not bother with the witch the next day, for he heard a fair was going to take place. There he met a woman, with blonde hair and blue eyes, who seemed to bring happiness to the sellers at the fair. She had flinched when Jesse approached her, a fear in her eyes he didn’t recognize. A new face he hadnt seen he in the small village, so he had only walked up to her out of curiosity. “Are you new here? a tourist?” he questioned her, a certain wonder in his eyes.

Her reply came with a soft smile that stole his breath away as she said, “No. I live by the mountains, where I grow vegetables for the folk here. A business carried out from my dear parents. And you? I do not believe we have crossed paths before.”

He smiled out of politeness, replying with a soft voice that could have been mistaken for embarassment. “I am but a tourist. Tell me, what’s yer name?”

Her eyes seemed to shine with a glimmer of its own as she smiled and said, “Angela,” her distinct accent making it seem as if her tongue wrapped around each word, each syllable. “You do seem like quite the foreigner, what is your name?”

He took her words in before replying that yes, he had come from very far away from Europe, and that his name was Jesse Mccree, which was most definitely less appealing than hers. This brought a chuckle from her lips, so true and so relaxed that it made Jesse wonder if she was even real.

He treated her to dinner that night, and made her laugh even more during it. She had told him about her life in the moutains, and how lonely it could get if it weren’t for the company of her friend, Genji, a man who too came from a far away land in seek of shelter and a welcoming home.

“Do not be fooled, though. He isn’t the most social anymore. But I do believe you two would make quite the duo. You think alike.”

“I would love to meet him one day.”

They spoke through the whole night, until he saw she seemed far too tired to keep her eyes open. He went back to his motel room with her in mind.

He soon learned that she worked on the bar near his motel. When he learned that, he went there whenever he was sure she would be working, and they would speak as long as her work allowed them to. They shared many stories together, and soon enough, they became friends.

After about two months in the village, he barely saw the witch. He told the priest that he could not capture her if she didn’t show any threats for the time being. It all seemed like a mere excuse from the hunter, but the priest accepted it with no more words.

Angela was usually the one to serve him, when she was working. She’d greet him with a warming and reassuring smile. It was good, after a long day. It made him feel more at home. Today, she greeted him with a bad mood: her eyes were dim, and she looked at the men around the bar with anger in her eyes.  
She takes his order with no more then a “ _understood”_ and “ _anything else?”_ And he can’t help but fall for her accent all over again. It sounded so charming—  _luring._

If he was a fool, he would say  _she_ was a witch more than the witch herself.   
And when he looked around, he guessed those that hadn’t surrendered to the effects of liquor thought the same as him. And the reason for her bad mood seemed more obvious than ever.  
Because as she left to the kitchen, the men’s eyes followed, and they began whispering,  _gossiping_. And it did not seem like the nice sort.  
So Jesse decided to sit down with the one that seemed more vocal about it. They didn’t mind him,for they shared their stories and theories with the hunter.  
“She says she lives by the mountains— but refuses to give us any information on how to get there. Have you ever seen any smoke coming from there? How does she survive the cold? What is there to think of that?  _She doesn’t live there_! _”_  One of them said, whispering between them. The cup on his hand was nearly empty, and he fidgeted nervously as he spoke.

“Ay, mate, that ain’t the weirdest. The weirdest is that she says she’s 37. My sister’s 34 and she looks like a dead  _hog! This woman hasn’t changed a single bit since her 20s.”_ Jesse visibly cringed at this man’s tone and logic, but he didn’t say anything, because he didn’t want to pick a fight.   
The table went dead silent as Angela gave Jesse his drink, and he thanked her.   
Once she left, the gossip began again.

“They say she’d a husband, but she killed him. For her own profit, I’m sure.”

“What profit? She probably only likes killin’, I bet. Either that, or she really  _is_ a witch and only used him.”

“ _Hello_ , gentlemen. Am I interrupting something? I would  _hate_ to burst your gossip, but how about thinking twice before talking about the woman that does your drinks?”

The three men around Jesse froze as she placed a fresh cup of beer to one of them.

“I mean, I don’t want to sound  _threatening_ or anything but,” she smiled softly, “You could be drinking poisoned beer, who’s to know? I mean, according to you,” she made her way to Jesse, looking him over before  _practically stabbing_  the table with a knife he hadn’t seen was on the table. “I  _love_ to kill.”   
The men were pale at this point, while Jesse was just impressed. He looked her over, her eyes seeming to clear as she let some of her anger go.   
The men seemed hesitant about talking again, or drinking their beer. So one by one, they stood up, slowly going to the cashier to pay, and leaving to their homes to reflect on their actions.   
Mccree stayed there until he was nearly the only costumer left.   
It took him a few moments to process, but when he set the cup down, the waitress was sitting across from him, her expression unhappy but calm.   
“I’m guessing you’re staying for longer to speak to me?” She began, “because if you are, you could always wait outside. I’m not the only employee— geez, Lena was  _dead_ tired, and incredibly unhappy that you simply wouldn’t leave so she could close the bar.” He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could, she raised a hand, motioning for him to stop where he was. “Don’t you worry, though. I told her to leave the keys so I would close the bar— but do apologize to her when you come by again.”   
“Ah— yes, most definitely, of course.” He stuttered, before continuing, “I am sorry for such an inconvenience. But I couldn’t help but wonder why those men seem to hate you — and why you would threaten them the way you did.”   
“First of all, you seemed just as ready to punch them as I was. Second, they are people, and  _third_ , they’ll blame anyone that might resemble the healer.”   
“Healer?”  
“Witch.”   
“Ah.” He said, raising an eyebrow, “you sympathize with the witch so much you call her a  _healer_? Even her own patients call her witch.”   
That made her eyebrows raise, and her mouth drop. She knew where he was going with this.

“What’s yer real name, sugar?” His voice carried a certain weight, he didn’t want to be made for a fool.

“Angela. I would never lie about such thing.” She said without blinking as she looked him over, perhaps looking for the different places he might have weapons on him.   
“Well,  _Angela_ , I have made my own conclusion. Please, allow us to bargain.”   
“Over my dead body,  _Jesse_.” Her voice crackled, but there was still confidence in it. “These people need me.”   
“I don’t want to kill you, I like you. I dont want them to kill you either.” She chuckled at that, and he continued. “Let’s avoid bad circumstances, will we?”   
Her smile didn’t leave her mouth, not even as she slowly said, “ _no”._  
_“_ Oh what a shame, then,” he shrugged, disappointment obvious in his voice, finally drinking what was left of his beer before continuing, “what a shame would it be for the people of this village to find that the sweet girl from the mountains is actually the Witch.”   
He didn’t expect her reaction. He was expecting fear, anger. But although her eyes seemed to scream with a billion negative emotions, she still smiled.  
And it was  _his_ smile that dropped when she finally gave him her answer.  
“What a shame would it be, for the people to find that we have a werewolf on the run.” She leaned in closer to him as she spoke, her tone never threatening, but soft and so,  _so luring._  “Don’t play with fire, cowboy. Or you might as well get burnt.”   
He smiled softly once she leaned away, because now  _that_ was a challenge, and he was more excited about this hunt than before.  _For a witch is a witch, and thus must die._

He left the bar after she gave him a drink. ‘O _n the house’_ , she said, handing him a cup of a strange pink liquid. ’ _But only drink it when you wake up.’_ It had been a warning, he knew that.   
It was foolish, but the next morning when he woke up with a terrible hangover, he drank it.  
He expected to choke and die, or simply suffer from a heart attack. Instead, a few minutes later, his migraine was gone and he realized she wouldn’t kill him, she was playing a game. She wanted  _him_ to have a debt with her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jesse and Angela realize they're falling for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! I based werewolf mccree from the brazilian version of werewolves. I dont know if the american version is much different, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Give me your review, comments are always appreciated!  
> this is probably the last chapter, as I'm unsure what to do next.

Her last words for him at the bar had been far from unsettling. It had given him a new goal, some sort of challenge. Even if threatening, he couldn't help but feel like it had been some sort of great miracle, that gave him way of spending more time at such a wonderful village, which seemed to hold more than the eye could tell.  
Still after days, some of the pink potion the witch had given him sat on his bed bunk. It's magic making it last longer than it should, and the sweet taste still made itself present on his tastebuds, lingering in his memory and obliging him to remember her.

It was not long until they met again. Angela had gone to the village in the night time, to buy fruit from trusty and worthy merchants. It were these types of merchants that sold the best ingredients for her potions, for they were unafraid of the dangers the night has to offer or the beasts that roamed under the moonlight with much pleasure.  
Jesse was there that night, his cowboy hat still on his head, his eyes gleaming with a happiness and calmness he didn't remember. This didn't change as Angela approached him, a hood over her head.   
"Miss Ziegler," he had said once she was close enough, and the smile on her face was more than enough to let him know that their relationship, though complicated, would remain unchanged, as if the night at the bar never happened. "It's late in the night. I don't fancy the idea of you roaming unaccompanied— or, for that matter, unarmed."  
"Oh,  _why,_ how  _delightful_ it is to find someone that cares for my well-being as much as I do myself." The smile on her lips did not fade at any time, even as she interrupted their conversation to simply order her ingredients from the merchant Jesse had been talking to. "As much as I appreciate the concern, I am far from being helpless. I thought you acknowledged that."  
" 'Course I do. Bet ya could knock me out with a punch."  
"If so, why worry?"  
"It's a friend's job to worry. Feels right." He smirked, tipping his hat as he winked at her.  
Angela did not answer this. Instead, the healer eyed him with suspicion, but smiled again as the merchant handed her a bag with her products in it, and wished her a safe night. "And what brings you here, in such a lonely night? The moon's gone from the sky."  
"Moonless nights are a favorite of mine."  
"That's strange, I would've guessed you're more of a full moon nights man. That's when the ladies are out. As you men say, a good night's hunt."  
This brought fourth a chuckle from him. "Yes, you are right, but women are no prey, and I fear these are also the most dangerous ones. For some reason, they seem stronger under a full moon's light."  
"But moonless nights can be just as dangerous," her voice showed a small hint of tease, "for under no moonlight, you cannot make their faces from the darkness." and with the smallest chuckle she could manage, she finished speaking, still walking towards home.   
He didn't take it, he  _wanted_ ,  ** _needed_**  more time with her. Something inside him told him that he needed to tell her to  _stay._ Something else in the back of his mind told him to  _stop, she's dangerous,_ but he was never one to follow his own advices and today was not the day this would change.  
As gently as he possibly could, enough to not startle her, he pulled her back by her arm, and began speaking the first words that came to his mind.  
"I've heard," he began, his words getting stuck in his throat the same way a terrible cough you can't seem to get out would, "two men died yesterday on a village nearby. From odd circumstances, the people said."   
Without proper lighting, he could have not possibly seen her widen her eyes. But he could feel her tense up.  
"I'm askin' 'cuz I haven't seen you lately and—" before he could finish, she interrupted him. As politely as one could she raised her voice over his.  
"And you think I have something to do with it." She chuckled softly before leaning in as close to him as she could, the light around her face somehow casting a shadow over Jesse's own as she leaned closer. "What do you think,  _Mr. Wolf_?"   
The nickname was  _mocking, terrible and cruel,_ and he held himself together to not call her something worse. Mccree closed his fists and smiled, he knew she was only teasing him, seeing how far he could go.  
But the closeness came with something new, and he guessed that's why he didn't really say anything else. Welcoming and what he didn't know he wanted.  
Her scent.  
A sweet, sweet aroma that filled his nostrils and made him feel in such a good and rare state of  _peace._  Because she smelled of fresh peaches and something else that was so  _familiar_ but felt so foreign coming from her.  
And as she smiled and told him goodbye, setting off onto the night with questions left unanswered, he got himself wondering if her lips tasted the same way she scented, if they felt as soft as they looked.   
And if the taste of her would linger with him as long as the pink potion had.

~~

The two men that died in the village nearby had been poisoned. Angela was the one to blame. She had poisoned their drinks after she had remembered their faces from years back, a time when she wasn't so good at hiding things.  
These two men had been the ones to torture a good woman, one who gave and did not ask back, who had learnt to trust and had learnt to heal.   
They had broken her bones and broken her spirit, called her slurs and told her lies, and with that, feeding the village's  _hunger_ for death.   
It was the first time Angela had seen an innocent woman be violently murdered for something she was not.  
To be blamed of being a witch was a serious crime— and a bad one at that. If you cannot prove you're not a witch, you're automatically dead. Be it to the world or be it to your friends.

She made sure the poison would kill them as slowly and as painfully as they had her, Angela wanted them to remember the woman they slaughtered.  
She couldn't bear to have the woman's name forgotten.

~~~

Jesse had not slept properly since the last time he had seen her. Not only because he  _knew_ she had something to do with the murders, but also because he couldn't stop thinking about how  _foolish_ he was to be falling for her.  
But he was, and he wasn't really one to complain.

He met her again that day, except a mask covered her face, the black dress she wore forbidding him to get close to her and talk to her as he would her civilian self. With the suitcase on her hands, she was no longer Angela Ziegler. She was the Witch, a wicked and strange woman with a tendency to heal and hurt.   
"I didn't know there was someone sick in town."   
"It's not because you've been living here for a six months that you'll know about everything that happens, Hunter."   
She turned to him, and if not for the mask, he'd see her smile mockingly. The message got through him by the tone of her voice, and he smirked at her.   
"You've been counting?"   
"Yes, of course." She said, and then, lower, she continued, " _Someone_ needs to make sure nobody kills you on full moons."   
He chuckled at this comment, and followed her until arriving at the doorstep of a large house by the very edge of the village.  
A woman with black hair and dark skin answered, her eyes gleaming with life in a way her skin didn't.   
Jesse froze when he realized she was a vampire.

He wasn't  _scared_ of vampires, no. He was just surprised that she lived in the village and he had never seen her before, and nobody had told him anything about a vampire. In a way, he felt betrayed, and confused. Vampires were usually far more dangerous than witches. If anything, he should be hunting  _her._

"I know you are startled, but may you think nicer about me? You do not know my story." The vampire spoke, towards him he guessed.   
"Oh." He said, looking desperately at Angela for an explanation as she walked into the house, shrugging at him. "I— You're one of the telepathic vampires?"

Angela snorted at that, and as the vampire dragged him inside and closed the door, he saw the witch take off her mask and hoodie, a childish smile on her lips.

"Of course not. You just looked at me as if you'd seen a ghost and I guessed."

The vampire's voice was soft and carried a heavy accent, and as Jesse looked over the house he was now in, he could see that it was a reflection of this woman's stylistic choice. It also didn't really seem to have been made by anyone in the village, as the structure was far different; more colorful.  
The halls were incredibly large, with two stairs leading to the second floor, one on the right side and another on the left. If he had taken the time to measure and count, he'd see that they were exactly the same size. The walls and floor were incredibly clean, reflecting a state of being polished just a few minutes prior, and the decorations were all too symmetrical for his own liking. It felt weird, it all felt mirrored. Vampires were weird, and he'd give her that.

"Jesse, this is my friend, Satya. She's a vampire, as it's obvious you guessed."

"What the  _fuck?_ For how long have you been livin' here?"

The surprise in his tone was obvious, and the way he spoke it made Angela burst in such a pure amused laughter that he nearly lost his train of thought. But he was  _confused,_ and didn't want to have a silly crush interrupt his thoughts. Satya for her turn only looked at him with an unamused expression.

"I have been living here for some time. Seven years at best. I have a deal with the villagers: I bring them wealth, they do not bother me. If they do, they suffer the consequences. I am only here for business."

Even after these words, Mccree wasn't quite sure if he would trust her. She's a  _vampire,_ but then yet again, Angela is a witch and she's just fine.   
Damned be his mind.

"I have bought you what you asked." Angela said suddenly, after Satya had sat on the couch across from her. "Genji helped, since you said you love it when he does it. I don't blame you for liking his way better than mine, I mean, he  _is_ a literal demon who's more skilled with this."

The smile on Satya's face widened as Angela gave her a bottle of what looked like wine, and Jesse judged Angela with a glare.   
She was quick to realize this and only giggled at him.   
"Oh, oh dear. I still have some from last week! Is it human? Animal?" The vampire anxiously fiddled with the bottle as she waited for an answer, her eyes never meeting Jesse, ignoring his existence entirely.

"Human. A village nearby sacrificed two warriors, of strong body. Genji was able to retrieve the blood from them as the ritual happened. It's quite clean! He did a good job."

Satya smiled gently then, her eyes softening as she opened the bottle to take a sip of the content inside.

And for a second, Jesse thought he had seen sadness in her eyes. But he spoke nothing, for he didn't seem to be quite welcome there. He didn't know why he was let in, but he had a tiny feeling in his gut that told him it was probably because Angela wanted him to understand.   
That nobody is ever truly gone.

~~~

"You  _ignored_ me the entire time you stayed there." The cowboy had relaxed when they left the vampire's house, but Angela, she had tensed. Mask over her face once again, her voice was monotone.

"You did not engage into conversation, and thus I just guessed you were far too scared to."   
Her voice was cold, and he scoffed. "'Ain't scared of vampires. Just worried."

"Of course. You are a werewolf, I do believe it is expected. But she  _did_ find you to be quite charming. Take this to the address in it, will you? I cannot visit the person to which it's assigned to at the moment." Then, she gave him a letter. It had a fancy handwriting, and it was signed by Satya.  _To Fareeha._  
Uh.   
He knew that one.   
"What's this for? Her bite list?" His brows furrowed, he looked at the witch with a wary expression.   
"A love letter. Please, don't be insensible." She shook her head (and he guessed she must have rolled her eyes, too) and did not tell him goodbye, as he knew she was about to before she saw a villager pass near. Instead, she loudly said, " _Leave me alone."_  
And he replied as snarky as he could, still confused over the letter but taking pleasure on the action of pretending anyway. 

When she left, he went to Fareeha's house, where they spoke together and she confessed to have been going out with the vampire for quite some time.   
Fareeha and Jesse had met months before he went to the village, when he had went to Egypt to take down a ghost. He found that the ghost was only a woman trying to protect people while in the shadows, and he had met Fareeha then.  
And he smiled at the shine in her eyes as she wrote a letter back to the vampire.

~~~

"Genji," the witch had said as exasperated as she could. When there was no answer, she tried again. " _Genji,_ " and once again, the demon did not show up.   
And she began to panic.   
Because right in front of her was Jesse. Not  _Jesse,_ but the beast in front of her was far too large and lacked too many traits to be a wolf. Strangely human clawed hands, human eyes that seemed to swallow you whole, and elongated back legs and paws.   
In any other situation, the fur over his now large body would have made her eager to pet him, as she had done with many werewolves before, ( _for werewolves were still men or women, and yet they were also still wolves. They loved to be scratched as much as a dog loved to be pet, and she always took fun from that_ ) but his eyes were hostile, his fur soaked with blood, both _his_ and both _unfamiliar_ , and she was so shocked with  _fear_ that she was paralyzed, _defenseless_ , and as panic rose on her chest she began to cry.  
" _GENJI!"_  
She yelled louder this time, her heartbeat beating like drums on her ears. Uncoordinated, fast, and  _strong._ The adrenaline on her blood was her cue to run, but if she did, death was certain. Jesse would go after her and kill her as quickly as he had the man.

Only after he had stepped closer to her, clumsy as he could be with a wound on his chest, and after she had stepped back and fallen onto the ground, did Genji finally show up.   
And when he took in the scenario in front of him, (a crying and panicking Angela, staring at him with wide eyes as a ten feet tall werewolf slowly and threateningly walked towards her shaking body) did he do something. The Oni ran towards the creature and mobilized it on the ground. , The werewolf was weak from a gun shot _,_  and couldn't do much under the strength of the Oni. Genji then sang a silent lullaby he had learnt from a goddess of song, and the werewolf fell into a deep sleep.

~~~

Jesse woke up in a strange bed. He had a terrible migraine, his arm hurt and his chest ached. It took him a few moments to finally adapt to the light that came into the strangely organized and decorated room from a circular window that had been left ajar.   
Sitting up, he looked around to take in his surroundings.   
By the door, he could see many protection symbols (one of them seemed to have been scratched out), the floor, walls and ceiling were made of fine wood, and he could see a few details here and there that had been made of stone, or fortified by it.   
Then, looking down, he saw why his chest ached: he wasn't wearing a shirt, but a bandage was tightly wrapped around his chest, and there was a deep red stain in it. His arm had the same bandage, although it seemed to have suffered less damage.

And that's when he remembered.

He had seen a young man walk into the forest, a gun equipped on his back. As a werewolf, Jesse usually tends to be near the threatening forest, or inside his motel as sometimes he isn't quite sure of what he's doing, and to risk being seen would be one of the worst things that could happen.  
So he had decided to investigate. As a predator, the man did not suspect nor hear the werewolf near him. Perhaps he was far too focused on whatever he was hunting, and that's why Jesse was so curious. Didn't the people here fear these trees? Didn't guilty hearts _die_ at the hands of a merciless demon?

Jesse had these and a billion other questions screaming in his mind. That, until he saw the pendent on the man's hand: a cross. Silver and shiny and so  _pure_ it hurt his eyes only by looking at it. He guessed this man had decided to venture in the woods in the middle of the night not to hunt food, but to hunt a trophy.   
A trophy worth millions.   
A trophy Jesse had been chasing.   
_His_ prey.   
And unlucky for him, the man had found exactly what he wanted:   
The witch, her face for any to see, collecting seeds of some sort, unaware and unprepared, happy to the world.   
The man did not seem to care to look further into it. All he knew was that she was a woman, on one of the most feared forests near the village, taking seeds as if it she was being graced by daylight, and as if she lived there. To the Man, that was enough evidence that she was the witch.

Jesse heard the man pull the gun out of his back, and his first instinct was to jump on him before he had the chance to shoot.   
Gun already loaded, he fired at the werewolf's arm, ripping some of the skin but not entirely touching it.   
In the midst of panic of having a giant beast on him, the man fired again: this time it hit his chest, near his heart, and his survival instinct kicked in.  
Jesse stopped being gentle, stopped trying to simply scare the man off. This wasn't his only purpose anymore, no. He had to  _kill_  him.  _Shred him to pieces._  
He bit hard onto the gun and threw it far, ignoring the yells of protest Angela made as she finally made it to the scene. He wasn't quite sure what she was telling him, and at the moment, he didn't care.   
She was just a _distraction_ , and he would tolerate no distractions.   
His purpose to kill the one who hurt _him_ pursed through his blood, and he was only satisfied when he had his massive mouth around the man's neck, breaking it as easily as a child could break a thin stick.  
Jesse remembered that he only felt truly triumphant when he felt the taste of liquid iron on his mouth. He had began eating the man away, and would've finished it if Angela hadn't thrown a rock at him.

And when he looked at her, he remembers snarling and hearing her yell for him to  _stop,_ and he heard her voice crack as she told him to move away from her, heard the exasperation on her voice as she called for  _Genji_.   
And the worst part of the memory was that Jesse remembers, as clear as day, that he had felt pride on making her so _scared_.   
And that he was ready to kill her too. 

Jesse shook these memories away and stood up from the strangely comfy bed. It felt weird, now that he looked into it. It was softer than the one in his home back in America, and it was softer than his motel's. He felt like he could stay there forever.

But he left the room, and was greeted by the smell of eggs and meat. He wasn't very hungry, not after the memory, so he decided to explore the house some more.

There were few paintings decorating the walls, all eerie yet beautiful, all with a common aesthetic: angels and demons, blue and green and yellow lights, and forests. The doors were made of wood, decorated with dream catchers and on doors that led to the   
outside, he could see bird nests. The ceiling was as clean as it could be, black as it is, somehow blending with the dark purple on the walls. It made the house darker, made him uneasy, but the aesthetic was cute and he guessed it had a somehow good intention.

He went to the kitchen, after the smell. He heard Angela humming, and a strange man laughing. The scent of eggs finally making him hungry as it woke something inside of him.

Slowly, Jesse made his way to the table, eyeing the man that sat across from him. His hair was black, his eyes, red. His face had contrasts of white, black and red, horns and fangs. Jesse was quick to make him out to be the demon that protected those woods.

" Morning." The man spoke suddenly, with an accent unknwon to him, and Jesse nearly jumped, but replied nonetheless.

  
"G'morning."

Angela turned around at the sound of his voice, and visibly tensed. She didn't say much more than a good morning, and " _what do you want for breakfast?"_  
She made him bread stuffed with eggs, and coffee.

  
"Thank you." 

  
She only nodded, before sitting down to eat her own meal and stare awkwardly at Genji, who was staring at Jesse instead. 

  
".... so." The cowboy began, clearing his throat, "I think I must apologize for attacking you, Angela." 

  
She stared awkwardly at her plate as she swallowed her food far too early to answer him. 

  
"I believe you were not fully in control. Genji was there to help me, too. No harm was done" Genji then stared at Angela, accusingly. ".... Nearly no harm was done. You killed a man." 

  
"I know. He was going to shoot you." 

  
Angela avoided the question, and Genji spoke.

   
"We must take the man back to the village and make sure people believe he was killed by a wolf. For that, I do believe you must be the one to take his body back. You are a hunter, and thus, the priest will believe you if you tell him you went looking for Angela, and this man followed you. Then he was attacked by a wolf, and in the midst of panic, he shot you." Then, the oni grinned, his fangs glorifying his mouth with every word, every syllable. "I did take the liberty to leave scratches on you, though. Do apologize if your arm aches far too much. But your story must be believable."

Jesse only nodded through the story, glancing towards Angela every once in a while. She had fallen silent, unable to make eye contact.   
Then it hit him.

  
"Wait. Are you...  _afraid_ of werewolves?" The question came so quickly and unexpected even Genji chocked on his meal, as if holding back a laugh.  
Angela blushed at this. 

  
" _No!"_ She exclaimed, then straightened her posture before providing him with an explanation. "Sometimes werewolves bring me bad memories, but  _no,_ I am not afraid of werewolves. You were trying to  _kill me, Jesse._  I deserved to be terrified."

 

Before he could apologize, she excused herself and left the table, going outside. Leaving the Oni and the werewolf alone to talk if they wished. Jesse was the first to speak.  
"Guessing yer Genji?" 

  
"Yes." It was short, but just as Jesse was about to speak once again, the Oni swallowed whatever he was eating and spoke. "She has spoken about me?"

 

"Uh, yeah, I reckon she has. Ain't you the one that came from the East?"

 

He simply nodded, and a smile formed on his lips. "Did she ever say the true story? Does she still say that I am a traveler?"

 

Jesse shrugged, already feeling more relaxed. Although strange and not exactly common, the Oni's face was rather easy to get costumed to.   
That, or Jesse was just used seeing strange things. " It's been long since we last spoke about her made up life in the mountains."

 

"Ah." A childish smile grew on the Oni's lips. "I came from the east, that much is true. I ran away from the clan I was born in, as they wanted me to kill the innocent and the unarmed."

 

"Yer a demon," Jesse began without much thought, "Really shouldn't think much of it."

 

"Aren't you a hunter? Shouldn't you have killed Angela the day you found out?"

 

The accent in Genji's voice made his words smoother and rougher. The annoyance in his voice was clear as day.

 

But Jesse understood what he meant, understood that he was being ignorant. So with a sigh, the cowboy apologized.

 

"She's not afraid of werewolves. You're not the prettiest, though. I wouldn't judge her if she was to be. She was more afraid of the look you gave her than anything else."

 

Genji's voice had gone smoother, as he somehow sympathized with the witch.

 

"What look I gave her, exactly?"

  
"Ask her. I am not one to do these things; but both of you need some time alone and make this up. She could barely sleep last night; after we brought you in."

 

 

  
Jesse felt uneasy, for being back in the open. He scented something awful and nearly puked as he saw the man he had killed last night, Angela pouring something over some of his major wounds, fixing an already cold corpse.

  
"What yer doing, sweetheart?" 

  
"Minimizing his wounds. To seem more believable that you had done anything at your reach to help him." She felt distant as she said those words, and for that, Jesse reached down for her, doing the best he could to ignore the foul smell.

 

"I'm sorry." 

  
"Don't apologize. A werewolf does not know what he is doing most of the times."

  
"Genji said that you were afraid of me because of my eyes," he took a deep breath, "why?"

 

She stopped pouring the liquid on the wounds, which eventually began to disappear but left a scar tissue.  
It took her a few minutes to finally answer him.

  
"Your eyes," she began, seemingly breathless, "I could not find a trace of you in your eyes. I couldn't find a human  _bit._ All I saw was hunger, anger and  _thirst_. You seemed so desperate and so angry." Her voice began shaking, and her body followed suit. "Tell me, Jesse. Do you remember anything? Do you remember the way you looked at me? The way you looked as if killing me would be the greatest thing you had done in years?"

 

Jesse felt something in his throat, and he was unable to speak. Instead, he hugged her as best as he could, his wounds aching but the scent of her eased some of it, as cheesy and pathetic as it sounds. 

  
That's only when he was able to finally speak something. His voice trembling as the leaves around them fell from their trees with a blow of the wind.

  
"Angie," he began, the nickname sounding sweet on his mouth but not at all unfamiliar. "I'm sorry I can't control how I behave under the moonlight, but you as well as myself know this ain't no fairytale. The people fear us for a reason, and as much as a wolf counterpart, I'll be just as violent." He sat down close to her finally, and let the woman rest her head on his shoulder. "I wish I weren't, but there's not much I can do."

 

She didn't speak. Instead, they spent a few minutes under the care of a comfortable silence, that engulfed them and made them feel a million things at once. With the forest ground nearly full of orange, yellow and red leaves, Mother Nature told them that Autumn was coming.   
It was a pleasing thought as well as a calming one. Because Autumn was rich in culture, rich in Peace, and rich in love.

Angela was the first to break the silence, her voice low and sweet.

 

"There will be a ball tomorrow night. Will you come?"

 

By that, the werewolf was caught by surprise. He looked at her, but only smiled to himself as he made out she was probably calling him to join her.

 

"Yes, I will." He said back just as softly as she had. 

~~~

Jesse had walked back to the village with the man on his back, his wounds fresh and the man's, too. It was a trick Genji had learnt, and although it hurt, it didn't hurt as it would if it were a  _real_ fresh wound.

He lied to the villagers, and forgave himself to the man's family. He was buried by the church to remain undisturbed, as he has tried to be a hero.  
Jesse didn't want to correct them.

Angela wasn't directly linked to it by the villagers, and the family didn't seem to curse her name. Perhaps it was because they were still in state of shock.  
Perhaps the man wasn't all that important and he had decided to go to the woods to try and prove himself worthy.

~~~

Jesse had, _most definitely_ , screwed up. He didn't have a suit for the ball, it was on that night, and he was going to disappoint Angela. Because she was going and Genji was going and Fareeha was going.   
And  _god,_ the ball would be in one of the vampire's properties and he couldn't make any more bad impressions on the creatures living in that village.

He had nearly given up, was about to tell Angela he wasn't going, when a man with a strange yet familiar accent came up to him.

 

"Does the wolf need assistance?"

 

Jesse blinked once. Then twice. Then he tried looking on different angles, and he couldn't believe it. The man standing in front of him was Genji, bare-faced and clean and looking like he was on his mid 30's.

 

A chuckle left the man's lips as Jesse began to stutter, trying to find words to ask him exactly what kind of sacrifice he made to look so human.

 

"A potion Angela gave me."

 

It was short, and brief, but it explained a lot. If Jesse ever had bad face days, he was sure to go looking for the witch for one of these magic potions.

Genji had come to visit him, because he knew he was struggling to find clothes for the ball. He knew because of how Angela had described him to be, and Jesse flushed as Genji laughed at some of the stories Angela had told him.

They walked through many doors and many stores, of many sizes and many colors, but none seemed to quite fit the man that was Jesse Mccree.   
Even Genji was starting to lose all hope. But then, something clicked in the back of his mind and he stopped walking suddenly, turning to Jesse and looking at him with such wide eyes the Hunter thought he was about to be eaten whole by them.

 

"I know a place."

 

Of course he did.   
Mccree smiled awkwardly, unsure and wary of this place. Because when they got there, the doors were made of hard metal, with symbols he could understand and symbols he had never seen before. This place was in the middle of what seemed like one of the abandoned edges of the village, and Jesse shuddered as he felt the perfume of death.

When Genji knocked on the door, a growl came from inside and Genji growled back, setting off to laugh right after, in a wicked, childish,  _strange_ way.  
And the man who answered the door had no head, except for a pumpkin that would resemble it. His outfit was astonishing, and when he turned to Jesse, he seemed unimpressed.

 

"He's not a man of many words, but you may call him The Reaper, or Gabe."

 

And for a fact, he didn't speak much. His voice echoed whenever he spoke and Jesse had a hard time understanding some of it, but otherwise, the man was sympathetic and patient and laughed every once in a while when Genji made a silly and cruel joke.

He took measures without much talking, wrote as much as he could, and after some questions, he set off to inside a room, and only came back five hours later, when the boys had become so bored they were fighting in a childish manner. Genji was gentle of course, as he wouldn't want to open a wound.

Reaper gave Jesse two pieces of clothing, which was a beautiful mix of black, grey and blue. On top of the pile, there was a mask, and Jesse nearly chocked because the fine details on the the fabric were amazing, and he wondered how the hell someone could do something so quickly.

He went to a room to change, and the outfit fit him so well. He felt good inside it, it wasn't itchy, uncomfortable.   
The blue scarf was a nice touch, added color and life on the outfit. The black poncho mimicked his own red one, the fine details on the silk giving it a shine of its own, and Jesse was incredibly delighted by this.  
He came out of the room feeling incredibly special, and couldn't help a laugh when Genji whistled.   
He felt ready, and he felt welcome.

~~

She only arrived at the ball after it had been two hours since it had begun.   
It was a masquerade ball, she had forgot to tell him. But Genji and Gabriel had taken care of that, or so Angela hoped.

Her hair was loose, sweet and careful blonde curls at the tips of her hair. A dark red lipstick graced her lips, making her smile ever the more livid. She wore simple perol earings, and the dress she wore was simple yet elegant, starting from her neck and going down her feet, the black silk turning a lovely shade of blue as it reached her knees. The mask she wore was simple: a white and yellow mask, with curves carved onto the fine clay, and a beautiful blue and black flower at one of the sides of the mask.

She was recognizable. The witch had been talking to Fareeha when Jesse made his way to her, kissing her hand so gently she blushed.   
At first, she really hadn't known who he was. Scarf covering his mouth and mask over part of his face, she felt uneasy as he took her to the center to dance.   
His steps were smooth, and his touch was caring and warm. It only took her a few seconds of listening to his voice to make out it was Jesse, and not an incredibly delicate stranger, and completely melt under his touch. She felt cold, and he was as warm as the summer.

 

"Blue fits you quite well." She said to him, after she had rested her head on his chest, arms carefully wrapped around his waist.

 

"Black and blue fits you just as well, Angie." 

 

And they stayed like this for a while. Whispering comments back and fourth about what they liked about each other, about how lovely the night was and how wonderful the music playing was.  
But the music mattered little for the two of them: they were focused on each other, on each other's embrace, on the warmness each provided for the other.

Angela felt something in her chest then, a certain tightness. She didn't really mind Jesse.   
No, she had fallen for him. So stupidly and predictably fallen for him, that she'd almost laugh at her own stupidity. She leaned in to him, and carefully brushed her lips against his as she spoke.

 

"Jesse?" 

  
"...Yes, darling?" his voice cracked, and it seemed like it was all he could apparently manage to speak.

  
"I want you to do me a favor." She looked at him, her eyes showing off a type of greed unknown to her. "I want you to lie to me. Tell me you love me." 

  
The lips brushing his left so soon, and for the first time since he met her, he wondered if she had gone insane. 

  
"That wouldn't be a lie." His words were true and confident, but for her, they were somehow fake and carried no real meaning.

  
She once again turned to look at him.

  
"You don't love me, Jesse. You don't want to love me." Even though her words carried meaning and were so serious, he couldn't make sense out of it.  
Because his words were true, and for the first time since what felt like forever, he was confident.  
And to pass on that confidence, he slowly leaned in to her, and placed his hand under her chin so she would look up at him. When she does not protest or give him a sign to stop, he takes it as a cue and very, very carefully, he presses his lips against hers. Slow and loving and _sweet, and he was so scared she would break and prove that was just a dream._

But it wasn't a dream, and it all felt like paradise. Perhaps there weren't thunders crashing together or all possible dreams coming true behind his eyelids, but it all felt peaceful and it all felt quiet.   
It felt right. It felt enchanting, and she tasted of peaches and cinnamon and he could  _drown_ on the taste of her and he would still believe it wasn't enough. And he took this as a cue that yes, perhaps the taste of her would linger with him as long as the pink potion had. But he sure as hell wouldn't want to take it only every once in a while. He wanted to be addicted to her, to have her want him as much as he wanted her.

  
Jesse was the first to break the kiss, but Angela protested ever so slightly, hugging him tight and hiding her flushed cheeks on his chest.

The smile he gives her is wide and loving, sweet and caring, and she can't help but smile back at him with the same eagerness and flame. He places a hand on her cheek, then the other, and whispers close to her ear, words only for her to hear.

  
"Is that enough proof that I would'nt lie to you? Or do you require more evidence?"

 

She chuckles at him, but answers anyway.

 

"I believe I need more evidence, Jesse Mccree."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this gets enough reviews, I might write a third chapter! I'm really sorry if this looks clumsy ;___


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